-oXo- Ashtray -oXo-

-oXo- Ashtray -oXo-

This wall in my head is quite thick,
Itís as old as a huge red oak tree,
And it stands right here dead center,
Between who I think I am,
And who I once thought Iíd be.
No way out of here,
And no one can enter.
Itís so staunch and tall,
This tree of a wall.
Here I am meek and mild.
Beside it I am so small,
Here I am but just a child.
It casts shadows so deep and long.
So that my compass needle spins.
The air here is so alien and strong,
Oxygen just barely wafts down in ribbons.
The looming darkness,
Thatís been created by this fortress,
Well, I guess,
It makes for a bit of distress.
And yes, here I digress:
Because most times I can only guess,
Itís so hard not to be-
Selfish at best,
Because I canít see, you see?
The shadows make it hard,
To make things out.
And this makes for melancholy,
To carry lots of clout.
For boundaries seem,
To swim and slip about.
With my compass,
Twirling out of control,
Thereís no way to keep watch-
No way to patrol-
Not anyway to track whoís here,
Or whoís leaving who.
So I canít really tell,
Whatís worth cleaving to.
Time stops here,
So thereís no one,
Here to bereave me.
Invisible to all who take a view.

Sight for me,
Is such an urgent issue,
You see?
And as I often do,
While Iím just trying
To get through,
Iíll stumble, rumble, and grumble.
For no matter which way I go,
I end up stubbing my toe.
Thought I was high,
And found I was low.
Just trying to make it free,
From this hardwood-
Looming Wall of a tree.
Iíll fall and scrape,
My sweet little knee.
This obstacle rock and hard place,
Though it has no real face,
Seems to behave-
With emotion and feeling.
Confounded and astounded,
I can only find myself kneeling,
Cursing, screaming, reeling.
And what of this wall,
That behaves like a tree?
It certainly does befuddle me.
Iím just not sure of:
How to frame it-
Or what to claim of it-
Or what I should name it.
I do though feel at best,
That I could blame it
For my unrest.
And for this lack of light,
I stumble about in.
It seems to be,
Where my fears and doubts begin.
It seems to be where many,
A truth has origin.
Itís just too bad,
Itís too dark to see within.
Smothering unease lingers here,
And the blackness,
Gives it a life of its own.
I feel madness, sadness, badness,
And strife, deep within my bones.

Hey, Ive-doe, you know I love you and I respect ever thing that you do, still some times to much of a good thing is to much of a good thing. You might want to try not giving the reader so much of yourself at one time. Of course I can never get enough of you, but who am I to talk?
Love you babe
Will